It’s a textbook, step-by-step, point-by-point painful and shameful explanation of the ills of college football recruiting:

Mother wants son to go to a specific school. Son wants to play for a different school, but doesn’t want to disappoint and sides with his mother’s choice.

Months later, son wants out of his letter of intent to sign with the school he wanted to play for all along. Guess who looks like the bad guy in all of this?

The same guy we still haven’t even mentioned.

That’s Jimbo Fisher at Florida State, a grinder of a coach who is three years into trying to remake the Seminoles into something they haven’t been in more than a decade. All he knows is this: He signed a five-star, elite linebacker named Matthew Thomas who earlier this month informed him he wanted out of his letter of intent.

And now Fisher’s the heavy because he won’t let Thomas walk free, and won’t help Thomas appeal to the NCAA to play this fall at another school. Here’s something else Fisher has become: the test case for his coaching fraternity.

“I told him, if he lets (Thomas) go free, precedent is set and everything changes,” said one BCS coach.

Fisher declined to comment through a university spokesman, and other coaches won’t speak publicly about Thomas, from Booker T. Washington High in Miami, Fla., because he has declared himself a recruit again but hasn’t been released by FSU. That’s how utterly ridiculous the world of recruiting has become.

Look, it’s easy to side with the player on this; easy to say he’s a young kid who got caught up in doing what’s right and shouldn’t be held responsible. Let him walk and move on.

But then what does that say from this day forward to every potential recruit? Better yet—and more important and relevant to the situation—what does that say to Thomas, who reportedly is interested in playing for Georgia or USC?

If you stomp your feet and throw a tantrum long enough, you’ll get your way.

I’ve spoken to three different BCS coaches who have reached out to Fisher and advised him to play it strictly by the book. In other words, if Thomas wants to leave, he can leave—but not without paying the NCAA penalty of sitting out a season of eligibility.

It’s nothing personal; it’s the system every program functions under. It’s nothing personal, it’s the first step in learning the most important part of leaving home and going away to college: Every choice has a consequence.

We’ve become a nation of panderers; of adults who acquiesce to young adults and their hurt feelings instead of equipping them with direction and discipline, with accountability and responsibility.

If Thomas wants out of his letter of intent to Florida State, he can have it— but he must follow the process that has been part of NCAA law for decades. He must do what he most certainly does not want to do: Skip the 2013 season.

This isn’t some random, mandatory NCAA ruling aimed at protecting coaches and their programs and fat salaries (you know that argument is coming). This rule is all about—and I know this is hard for some of you to believe—the academic welfare of the student.

Succeeding at college is hard enough for a majority of students. Succeeding while changing schools, adjusting to a new environment and maintaining academic progress—all while being a full-time football player—is next to impossible. A year away from football improves the percentages.

If a byproduct of the rule makes players think twice about leaving, prevents massive turnover on rosters and further complicates the already seedy side of recruiting and procuring personnel, then so be it.

It’s not a free-for-all where we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. There are standards and there are rules, and they won’t be broken because of a family squabble.

If Thomas didn’t want to play for FSU, he could have not signed on National Signing Day and waited to convince his mother of his choice. He had 54 days—from Feb. 6 to April 1—to make his decision.

“Trust me, every five-star kid has been told more than once by more than one coach about the length of the signing period,” says another BCS coach. “That kid made his choice, and now he has buyer’s remorse.”

Then there’s Fisher, the bad guy in all of this because Thomas walked into his office one day and said he didn’t want to play for FSU.

Now Fisher’s the mean man who won’t let a player walk away. Now he’s the big bully who can leave FSU for another coaching job whenever he wants without any loss of coaching eligibility, yet won’t do the same for a player.

Now he’s the rich coach making millions off the backs of cheap labor and won’t let one of his players leave without penalty. Now he’s the reason why college football must change.

See where this is headed? This story has become more about Fisher than a player trying to circumvent the rules.

Thomas had two choices: Learn a hard lesson and grow from it, or throw a tantrum.